Love, Just a Memory
by Krazie4Christ
Summary: Re-doing my old one. Just a fluffy little side-story for my own enjoyment and hopefully for yours, too. Ephraim (farmer) and Celia reminisce about the love that didn't work out. Can they love again? Will they?
1. PROLOGUE

A/N: Doing some revamping. I read through the story and it could use a little work. I also really like it, but I want it to continue, so I have to fix the things I messed up. Enjoy.

xXxXxXx

oOo Celia oOo

My fingers are enriched with the scent of soil, so I am reluctant to wash them, but supper is being served. With a sour face I scrub my hands clean of the dirt most people would dub grime, filth, or, "Blech!"

But I've always loved the garden. I love feeling of waking up at dawn and seeing the first sprout of a tomato vine. I love the fragrance of flowers after rain and the way they sway and dance in the kisses of the autumn breeze. It makes me smile just to think of it.

But it makes me frown to think of with whom I saw this year's first harvest.

Sweeping the sorrowful thoughts from my mind, the aroma of Vesta's beloved banana bread catches the air through which I am walking. With a grin I hurry into the house to find Marlin setting the table with plates and silverware as Vesta carefully places the freshly baked bread onto the middle of the table. She looks up, puffing her fiery red hair away from her deep, dark eyes, and chuckles at my excited expression. "Ah-ah!" she says playfully. "No banana bread for you, Celia, until you bring back that boy!"

My smile droops and my eyes dim at his mention. I can tell Vesta senses my sudden sorrow because she stands erect and gives me a solemn look. "Celia, dear, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, it's just that it's different without him around here...we miss him."

"I know." My voice is so unsteady that I think I might start crying. Suddenly, even the banana bread doesn't look appealing anymore. "I'm going to go for a walk."

Marlin grunts and mutters something under his breath. He's never liked my Ephraim...though I can't call Ephraim mine anymore.

The air is sweet outside, and it comforts me only a little. I walk away from the farm and to the right until I reach the bridge that connects us to the village. Tucking my dress under me, I sit down so my boots dangle but a foot above the gentle flowing river. When I reach up to itch my head, I realize that the wind has blown my beige-ish bandana out of place and take a moment to fix it again so that only a few strands of dark brown hair hang in front of my ears.

I do miss that boy...I remember how we used to sit here some nights in the summer in a perfect, pure silence. He would stroke my hand with his thumb, our fingers entwined, and I would gaze at him with a love I had never known before.

A love that I would never know again...

oOo Ephraim oOo

"Yes!" Rock cheers as he gleefully tosses another big huchep into the cooler. "Fourth one in a row!"

"Congratulations," I say in a flat voice. "I'm proud of you."

"What's with you, Ephraim?" Rock asks, re-casting flawlessly. "Ooh, Eph, your line's bobbing!"

Immediately I begin to reel 'er in, but it's too late. The fish has gone, and it's taken my bait with it. Silently I slide another writhing worm onto the sharp hook and recast.

I learned how to fish almost two years ago, when I first arrived in Forget-Me-Not Valley. Since then, I've really enjoyed it. It seems to relax me, but at the same time gives me a thrill. I never catch much, maybe a few pitiful snelts here and there and once, I caught a big columbo, but that's about it.

I came out here with Rock tonight in hopes of distracting myself. So far it's not working. All I can think about is her.

"Ra-ams!" Rock says with a flick of laughter in his voice.

I know he is expecting me to chuckle and jokingly tell him to quit it, but I can't bring myself to. All I say is, "Don't call me that, Rock."

"What? Rams?"

I realize that he's joking and that he doesn't mean any harm, but his teasing is getting on my nerves. "Seriously, Rock. Don't call me that."

"Geez, Eph," he says, and I nearly sigh in relief that he's using my normal nickname. "I know heartache is a killer, but I ain't never seen it kill like this before. Why can't I call you Rams? It's cool. Get it? Eph- RAIM? RAMS?"

"Yes, Rocky, I get it." I laugh genuinely at my own joke.

"Now that's not funny."

"I think it is."

"How did you know my mom calls me that?"

"Rocky," I say, mimicking his mother's Japanese-accented voice, "Rocky! Time for supper, Rocky! Rocky, stay away from the turtle!"

"Ha...ha...ha," he says plainly. Then after a pause he says, "But since Rams is cool, why can't I call you that?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Just because!"

Silence. Then, "Because that's what she used to call you?"

I say nothing for a few seconds and then quickly reel in my empty line and stand. "I'm done for today. Should be getting home. Sheelah's grumpy when she's out too late."

"The cow? You're leaving because the cow will be grumpy?"

I laugh and tell Rock to bring me back my cooler tomorrow.

Walking away, fishless, I breathe in the pure autumn air. This is my second fall in Forget Valley. So far, I'm partial to it. Yeah, spring is refreshing, summer is exhilarating, and winter is beautiful, but to me, nothing feels as good as watching the clean, crisp autumn wind blow through pleasantly colored trees.

As I'm walking down the hill that leads to the bridge, a familiar figure, silhouetted in the setting sun, catches my stare.

It's her.

She's sitting on the bridge, wiping her face like she's crying. I don't why she would be crying. She's the one who doesn't love me anymore.

I wonder if she's even crying over me. Probably not. No girl has ever cried over me; I'm always the one who gets dumped.

But Celia...she just seems different.

Will she ever love me again?


	2. The Day We Met

xxx Ephraim xxx

She's tucking her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. Oh, if she only knew how perfect she was. I'm only looking at the back of her, but even from here I can tell that she is beautiful.

I feel tears gather in my eyes and blink hard twice. Sitting down on the ground, I rub my forehead like I'm giving it a massage. But what I'm really trying to do is make the pain go away. I want to start over again.

I want to go back to the first day I met Celia. I want to rewind it all and love her better.

Instead, within my mind I relive our first meeting.

xxxx March 12 xxxx

"Whew," I sighed. "The sun's killin' me."

Takakura chuckled, his thick black eyebrows lifting slightly to reveal dark eyes surrounded with wrinkled skin. "Spread your hands out on that handle. You're back'll break before to long if you keep 'em together like that," he advised.

I adjusted my bulky gray gardening gloves and then my grip on the ancient, heavy hoe and started again. "How many more feet do you think I need?" I asked the old man.

"Let's see, you've already got...what?...ten?"

I nodded and again brought the hoe down heavily into the extremely fertile earth.

"I'd plant about four rows to start out with, so you should end up with about fifty-six square feet of tilled ground. I wouldn't bother with fertilizer until after your first harvest, when you'll have some more money. Are you planning on more livestock?"

"Of course. How long 'til Sheelah runs out of milk?" I asked, glaring up at the relentless noon sun for a second.

"Oh, she'll last all the way to the end o' the year."

"Then I won't worry about that now." I grunted, looking at my first row of tilled soil. "Look," I said. "I'm a little behind, so I'll just worry about livestock in a few months and try and get all my plants in. Where can I get seeds?"

Takakura smiled at what I guessed to be my determination. "There's a produce farm up the road some to the left. You can buy 'em there. As for me, I'd better be headin' out to the falls if I'm going to get any fishin' done today. I'll catch us somethin' for dinner tonight."

"Sounds good," I grinned, stripping off my black tee shirt to leave me in a worn white wife-beater. I admired my muscles for a few seconds before turning back to Takakura.

After Takakura left, I shook my head and continued on. The sun was burning me like a bug under a magnifying glass. I'd forgotten about the risk of sunburn, and therefore, also the application of sunscreen.

Consequently, when I had finished tilling fifty-six feet of soil, I was embarrassed to find myself with dainty little tickle-me-pink cheeks and cherry-red shoulders. "Great," I muttered. "This totally throws off the whole vibe of my bulging muscles." I curved my sunburned arm and flexed, but smiled. It didn't look too bad.

However, I decided that since it was now a quarter after four, and the heat had subsided considerably, I should put my tee shirt back on so as not to look boastful of my own hot body.

Besides, the tee shirt couldn't detract from my irresistible manly charm.

Pulling the shirt over my head as I walked in the direction Takakura had instructed, I whistled a little tune I'd picked up from the record player in my new house. I inhaled the exuberant spring air with a grin. The Valley was beautiful, ornately decorated with fresh sprouts of green grass and the very first flowers of the year, their buds emerging gleefully from the soil.

I was nearing a quaint little farm with three gardens that made my field look like a joke. Their soil was already tilled and there was a large red-haired woman and a slender-looking guy with a stupid black mullet planting what looked to be tomato seeds. I noticed three or four huge white tents lined up along the back fence and wondered what they were for. As I passed through the gated entrance, I walked by a very small wooden shed that smelled of old wood mixed with something nice that I couldn't recognize. A little two story house directly across from this building also caught my attention.

"'ey!" said a deep feminine voice from the fields. The big red- haired lady was standing upright and walking toward me at the same time. She had a big white smile on her face, and she seemed friendly enough, so I answered her.

"Howdy, there." I put my still-gloved hands on my hips and looked around me again, letting her see by my expression that I was impressed by the gardens. "I'm Ephraim. My dad bought the Pearl Farm down the road there."

"Yessir," she said. "I heard about you! How's it comin' so far, son?"

I told her about the work I'd already done and showed her my burned arms and face. "Yeah, and I've even got myself a cow, too."

She chortled similarly to a man. "That's just great, young man. Well, I 'spect you've come for seeds then, eh?"

"That's right."

"Well, go on in yonder house and speak with my little angel Celia."

I laughed. "Your daughter?"

"Ah, no. But if I'd ever had a daughter I 'magine she'd be quite a bit like dear Celia." She paused for a second. "Aye, she'll make a grand wife some day." I was starting to think this woman was from Ireland by the way she spoke.

I wasn't sure what to say to that, though, so I just smiled at her, thanked her, and walked toward the house the big woman had pointed to as she talked.

Upon entering the house, I noticed that the whole bottom story was only one room. In the center of the room was an old wooden stairway leading up to what was probably an attic or a loft or something. I could tell because the steps just led right up through a hole in the roof. I looked around and observed the cluttery atmosphere with a smile. It reminded me of my house back home in Nebraska. There was a small table covered with little post-it notes and papers and envelopes, and on the back wall was a yellow-topped kitchen counter with a sink that was filled almost to the top with dirty dishes. I saw a dirty-clothes hamper on the other side of the back wall, and behind the stairs I noticed a prehistoric washer and dryer set.

When the door closed behind me, a petite womanly voice called from upstairs, "Marlin? Marlin, could you bring me the scissors on the dining table? I'm sorry; I forgot them on my way up."

I looked to the table and saw the rusty old scissors lying on a bed of paperwork. Geez, everything in this town was old, even the scissors!

After snatching them off the table I removed my thick gloves and stuffed them into my pockets, then carefully climbed the steeper-than-they- looked stairs.

The little loft was neat and well-kept, with polished wood floors and a neatly made bed in the far corner. I saw a tall brown chest of drawers with a few picture frames on top and then at a prettily finished writing desk on the wall I spotted the girl that would change my life forever.

She was sitting at the desk, facing the wall, with a small, orderly stack of photographs on one side and a large corkboard with several photos already decoratively placed on there on the other. She looked up when she heard my footsteps on the wood floor and was undoubtedly surprised that I wasn't "Marlin."

The girl, who looked to be about my age, probably a little younger, was very pretty, with straight, smooth brown hair that extended to just above her shoulder blades. I noticed a rust-orange bandana holding the back part of her hair back and allowing a few silky locks to frame her fair face, flawless except for the cute freckles dotting her cheeks. She was wearing a tan apron over a simple green dress, and I noticed a pair of brown boots next to the desk, her bare feet tucked under her stool.

I expected her to scream or something, but the girl just smiled gregariously. "Thank you!" she said as I handed her the scissors. She placed them on the desk with the stack of pictures and said, "I bet you're Epherman!"

I smiled. "Uh, kinda. Ephraim."

She let out a breath. "Good! I was afraid I'd have to call you Epherman all the time!"

I laughed. She was cute.

"So you're on the Pearl Farm, now, huh? I remember when your daddy bought that place. How is he doing?"

I shrugged a little, sort of startled that she hadn't heard about my father's death two months ago. "He died a while back. That's why I'm working the farm now."

Her face fell as she thought maybe she shouldn't have said anything. "I'm sorry to hear that. I remember he was a very pleasant man."

I nodded and smiled.

"So!" she said, swiftly switching subjects. "Here for seeds?"

"That's right," I said as she jumped up from her chair and bounced down the stairs. I followed her back out the front door and into the small building I'd passed on my way in. Before I entered the building, I noticed the black-haired guy, who looked to be a few years older than me, giving me some kind of dirty look. I shrugged it off as I shut the door behind me.

The girl, whom by now I presumed to be Celia, proceeded to hook me up with the "best seeds around." I purchased twenty-eight bags of tomato seeds and twenty-eight bags of watermelon seeds. Then Celia mentioned trees, so I bought seeds for an apple tree that I could harvest in the fall along with seeds for a banana tree that I could harvest in summer.

As we walked back out the door, she finally told me her name. I had already heard it from the big woman out in the garden, but I pretended to be oblivious. "That's a beautiful name. It suits you."

Celia's cheeks turned as pink as mine. "Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper.

"Thank YOU." I stuffed all the seeds into my pockets.

"Good luck!" she said as I waved good-bye.

And on my way out, I noticed the big lady in the garden wink at me.

xxxx October 7 xxxx

I sigh. The crisp fall breeze caresses my face as if to say, "It's going to be okay," but it serves no consolation.

I am miserable. Just thinking about Celia makes my heart break all over again.

I want her back. I'd do anything to have her back.


End file.
